


Pucker Up

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just want your extra time and your....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pucker Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Get Some: Generation Kill Porn Skirmish](http://getsome.oxoniensis.org/). Prompt: With those lips and eyes, Nate should have been a girl. Sometimes, Brad can't help making him up.
> 
> Originally posted 7-19-09

He tied Nate up for this.

Nate _asked_ to be tied up for this, and Brad was happy to oblige him. The pale silk rope he bought in Thailand just tight enough around Nate’s wrists and ankles that Brad can hear the rub of it on Nate’s skin. The knots are slipknots and Nate knows how to get free, so Brad can concentrate on this.

He straddles Nate’s naked thighs and traces a finger down Nate’s hard cock. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah.” Nate’s voice is low and rough, almost shaky. Brad dumps the bag out beside Nate on the bed and then carefully sets the supplies on Nate’s stomach. “C’mon.”

“Patience. Jesus.” Brad opens everything slowly, looking it over. Nate watches him, already breathing heavy, tugging lightly at the ropes holding his wrists. Brad looks up, giving him a mock glare. “Hold still.”

“This isn’t the fucking Clinique counter at Macy’s,” Nate’s voice is rough, not quite all there. “Come on.”

“So fucking impatient. Just like an officer.” Brad picks up the pencil that’s lying just above Nate’s navel. He uses it to draw a long line up the center of Nate’s stomach to just between his nipples, a smoky green trail that makes Nate shiver. “Close your eyes.”

Nate obeys, though Brad can see the muscles of his eye moving under the lids. If he’s like Brad at all, he’s remembering how they got here, how one offhand comment by some guy got Nate’s brain moving, got them talking one night about sexuality and fluidity and fantasies. Nate had been surprised that Brad was open to most anything, until Brad had reminded Nate that, whether he was wearing a fucking collar and had a horsetail dildo in his ass while he pranced around the living room or more make-up than RuPaul, underneath it all, he was still Nate.

Which had led Nate to sucking off Brad that night, holding Brad’s come in his mouth until he could kiss him and then fucking the come between their mouths until neither of them could breath. When Nate had collapsed on top of him, Brad had simply held him, half asleep when he heard Nate whisper he wanted to try it.

Brad braces himself with one hand and leans into Nate. Nate’s breathing gets more ragged for a moment until he clearly forces himself to calm down, almost normal by the time Brad carefully presses the pencil to Nate’s eyelid, stroking slowly from the middle of his eye out to the corner. His own breath is tight in his chest, caught there like it’s waiting for something. He thickens the line, darkening it on Nate’s pale skin and then pulls back.

“Open.”

Nate blinks and looks at Brad, eyes smoldering hot. There’s a dark line just above Nate’s pale lashes and it looks lopsided and awkward, but good just the same.

“Close.” Brad has to clear his throat. He reaches down between them and shifts his cock, the ache of rubbing against Nate distracting and almost painful. He takes a deep breath and regulates his breathing, matching Nate’s steady rhythm before he applies the liner to the other eye, trailing it out slightly past the corners and smudging it slightly with his thumb. Nate’s lips open on a rough exhale, a shuddering breath that rocks the items on his stomach. “Almost there.”

Brad moves the pencil beneath Nate’s eye and sketches just beneath it, light at first and then darker as he gets to the corner. It’s exotic, which seems strange on Nate’s all-American looks, but that’s the best word for it as Nate opens his eyes. Still Nate, but something more too.

“Well?” Nate swallows hard and blinks, looking up at Brad.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Keep…keep going.” He shifts beneath Brad, and Brad can hear the slur of the rope against the posts.

Brad nods and caps the pencil, tossing it aside. It rattles against the floor somewhere in the distance and then goes silent. Brad leans back a little and pulls the cover off a small brush. The lipstick in his other hand is _ripe cherry red_ , only because the store was sold out of _fuck my pussy pink_. Nate parts his lips and licks them and Brad’s relatively certain that putting anything on those full, thick, swollen lips other than his own dick is going to be some kind of overload.

The clerk at the store had told him to buy the brush – that his girlfriend would appreciate it – and so he had. Only instead of sliding it over the slanted edge of the lipstick, he brushes it up Nate’s cock from the base to the tip, tracing the ridge with the feathery bristles. Nate’s body jerks hard and everything scatters from his stomach, his hips rocking up against the pressure of Brad’s body. “O-oh. B-B-B…” Nate breathes roughly through his nostrils. “Brad.”

Brad leans in and kisses Nate, biting and sucking Nate’s lower lip into his mouth. Nate moans, arching against the restraints, his body bowed slightly. Brad thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against Nate’s again as he carefully presses the lipstick against Nate’s upper lip. “Hold still,” he murmurs softly, his own lips still parted, pulled taut over his lips as he paints Nate’s mouth with the dark red. “Fuck.” His hands tremble slightly as he finishes, the dark stain of Nate’s mouth standing out against his pale skin. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Let me see.”

Brad shakes his head and swallows, his whole body tight with want. His cock _aches_ , but he pulls back and manages to close up the lipstick. “A-” He licks his lips and nearly groans when Nate does the same, his pale pink tongue sliding over those red fuck-me lips. “Almost done.”

His fingers feel huge and out of proportion to the small brush, but he grips it as firmly as he can manage, swiping it over the head of Nate’s cock, painting the bristles with the thick pre-come pooled there. Nate moans and slams his head back on the mattress and Brad has to dig his knees into Nate’s thighs to stay seated. He reaches up and cups the back of Nate’s neck with his hand and holds him still, the brush wavering slightly as he coats the red with the pale liquid.

Nate’s breath is short and shallow, and he keeps thrusting up into Brad. He arches up off the bed, arms held back by the ropes, but nearly sitting. He looks hungry and desperate and that painted whore’s mouth is parted for Brad. “Well?” Brad reaches for the mirror and holds it up, letting Nate see himself. Nate doesn’t look like a girl – not even close – but he looks softer, a different kind of sexy. “Huh.” Nate takes the mirror and turns his head from side to side. “What do you think?” Nate’s voice is uncertain. Brad doesn’t even remember the taunt that started it all, something about framing those cock-sucking lips. “Do you like it?”

Brad crawls forward on his knees, settling on Nate again, this time with Nate’s dick pressing up against his ass. He takes the mirror away and looks down at Nate, leaning in and kissing him softly. “I love _you_.”  



End file.
